


I am a poor wayfaring stranger

by DalekLetoEndeavour



Series: Que sera, sera- Sidney and Robert [2]
Category: Grantchester (TV), The Grantchester Mysteries - James Runcie
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sorry Not Sorry, Spooky, Survivor Guilt, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalekLetoEndeavour/pseuds/DalekLetoEndeavour
Summary: First there was remorseThen sorrowThen there was rageAnd a familiar faceThis might just hurt a bit
Relationships: Sidney Chambers/Robert Kendall
Series: Que sera, sera- Sidney and Robert [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676482
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	I am a poor wayfaring stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [billspilledquill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/billspilledquill/gifts).



> What's up Fam!
> 
> Slowly but surely getting back onto track with life... well not as I anticipate but cest la vie
> 
> So I picked up a pen and wrote my way out
> 
> As always dedicated to my dear friend @billspilledquill who's conversation are really a balm in these times of woe 
> 
> As for the song "I am a poor wayfaring stranger" there are a dosent versions of it 
> 
> I listened to the 1917s soundrack version as well as to Ed Sheerans, while writing.  
> So enjoy xD

As he was on his knees lost in prayer he heared the sounds of a wind chime rattling loudly like a raging skeletons horrifying dance.

For a moment he pressed his hands together so tight until the sharp pain made him squirm.

He had seen a ghost.  
Dancing with shadows  
A mere flicker in the light  
Nothing more  
But what if?

Feeling feverish and full off remorse Sidney got up.  
Apologizing for spilling blood over the holy grounds.  
Leaving he kissed the pendant which he had kept in his pockets ever since they had left for Dover.  
A silent prayer on his lips to give him the streght to go on.  
"I know dark clouds will gather 'round me  
I know my way is hard and steep  
But beauteous fields arise before me  
Where God's redeemed, their vigils keep"  
He walked up the steep hill that lead away from the cemetery.  
Not paying attention to the people passing by who had wished a 'good day'.  
His heart felt heavy. Beating weary and unsteady in his chest.  
Catching his breath he went inside the church.  
Like a wounded fox in a hunt hushed inside.  
Knelt down infront of the altar hands folded before his face.

It had been a quiet day.  
No one, not even the odd grandma had been in here today.  
The silence of the walls was suffocating him.  
Even the dog collar he wore felt like an iron shackle around his neck. Slipped a finger inside to ease the restraint a little.

Desperately trying to focus on a psalm or a sermon he looked helpseeking to the statue of mother Mary. Finding her blessed grateful face unmoved by his distres.

"You too would disapprove of us. Like our society does of mothers like you. All this even though your son preached love"

A wove of remorse and memories swept over him once more.  
He had been saved from deaths cold claws yet had been unable to return the favour to his saviour.  
His thoughts had trailed back to Robert, the kiss, the icy waters. 

"I am a poor wayfaring stranger travelling through this world of woe!" He spat out, accusingly aimed at his surroundings. Which of course remained silent.  
Blinded by a tick veil of tear he got up.  
Rage was building up inside his heart. An unknown anger over came him.  
Ready to take over his howl being.  
Consume him in eternal fire.  
All to ready to give in to this demonic longing he froze.  
Someone had placed a hand on his shoulder.  
"I too am a poor wayfaring stranger. But that gives us neither the absolution to thrash a house of worship. Not even if you're part of the interior." 

This voice had caught him off guard.  
A bit rougher than he remembered.  
Could it be Robert?  
Should it have been possible that he had survived  
No.  
It surely wasn't be Robert.  
He had stood upon his grave.  
They all had.

Sidney turned to face the man.  
Disbelieving, walked a step backwards, shaking, eyes bewildered with questions, before stumbling, falling and smashing his head against the altar.

Then there was darkness.


End file.
